


Planet-Side Spin

by sequence_fairy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Multi, grounded!verse, ot3: neapolitan ice cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 14:51:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9825293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: Ichigo misses them like breathing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set vaguely in the future of the ot3 'verse [ gunnerpalace ](http://gunnerpalace.tumblr.com) and I have been building for these three. Sort of a prequel to [Up All Night to the Sun](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9825725).

The water here is an out-of-this-world colour of blue - Rukia would tell him it was azure, but she’s the one with the vocabulary right out of a game of scrabble. He hates this place already. Well, he doesn’t hate the place exactly, it’s more that he hates being here without _them_. 

Ichigo turns away from the sweep of beach-fronted shoreline and walks back into the hotel. The open-to-the-sky lobby mills with tourists of all kinds, and Ichigo makes his way to the desk, intent on getting his key and knocking off for several hours of sleep.

There’s a small rigamarole to get his room sorted - his soon-to-be-ex-at-this-rate assistant had helpfully booked it for him under her own name instead of his - and then Ichigo is on his way up in an unnecessarily posh elevator. His feet drag as he walks down the long hallway to get to his suite and by the time he’s pushing the door open, the only thing on his mind is crawling into bed and not moving for the next twelve or so hours, never mind that it is the middle of the day.

Ichigo’s concession to adjusting to this particular timezone is to set an alarm to wake himself in an hour and a half, because there is a meeting at nine the following morning, and there is the herculean task of preparing for it to be done ahead of that time. He’s asleep almost before his head hits the pillow.

When the alarm goes off later, Ichigo swats blindly at his phone and it topples onto the floor. It lands on the plush carpet with a dull sound. The alarm continues to ring. Ichigo groans and pushes himself up to sitting. His head is full of cotton wool and his eyes feel like he’s spent the last three days in a desert, but he can’t afford to sleep any longer.

Reaching down for his phone, he silences the alarm and checks the time difference. He should be able to catch Yoruichi at home, and if he’s lucky, Rukia will be there too. But first, to make himself presentable, because if he knows Yoruichi, it’ll be facetime and Ichigo imagines his hair is a nest of unruly orange spikes.

The shower in this suite is big enough to hold at least five people comfortably, and Ichigo diverts himself while washing off the seven hour flight plus nap by thinking about how the three of them could take advantage of the space, and the bench across the back of the glassed-in enclosure. He gets distracted enough by the image of Rukia between his knees, water beading on her skin, hooded eyes looking up at him that he nearly forgets to rinse out his hair before stepping out of the shower.

Towelling off and dressing take no time, and Ichigo dials Yoruichi while lounging on the shaded balcony, the gentle wind off the ocean ruffling his hair.

She picks up after three rings, and Ichigo has to stifle a laugh at the way she barks her greeting at him.

“It’s me,” he says, and he can hear her fumbling with her phone before she comes back.

“Sorry, I thought you were work.”

“What’s the point of having caller ID if you don’t look at it before you pick up?”

“Piss off, I was making dinner.”

“Oooh.” Ichigo’s mouth waters at the thought of Yoruichi’s cooking. “What’re you making?”

“Nothing fancy,” Yoruichi hedges, and Ichigo makes a noise of annoyance. Yoruichi laughs. “I’m doing that noodle thing that Rukia likes, you know the one.” Ichigo does. His stomach makes a hopeful sound.

“Is Rukia home yet?”

“Not yet,” Yoruichi says, and he can hear the clatter of utensils in the background. “Soon though, she called me when she landed - ‘bout an hour ago? She should be home any minute.”

There’s a silence across the line. Ichigo stares out at the ocean.

“How’s the hotel?” Yoruichi asks, and Ichigo can tell she’s left the kitchen by the way her voice sounds closer - warmer. He thinks she’s probably lounging on the couch, and turns his mind forcibly back to the conversation at hand. It’s been far too long since he’s been home if this is all it takes.

“Nothing fancy,” Ichigo says and Yoruichi groans. Ichigo laughs, and then leans back. “It’s nice, but it’d be nicer with company. There’s this huge shower, and one of those in floor tubs - reminds me of that first time.”

Yoruichi hums. “That was a good time.”

Ichigo agrees. It was, and it lead them down the first couple of steps towards here, and in his sappier moments, he thinks about how lucky he is that it worked out like this, how easy it was for the three of them to slot together like puzzle pieces, and how complete the puzzle is now that they are together.

“Oh,” Yoruichi breathes, breaking Ichigo out of his reminiscence. “Rukia’s home!” Ichigo can hear the way her voice has upticked into pleased contentment. “Give us an hour or so to eat and then we’ll call you back?”

There’s a part of Ichigo that wants to say no, that he wants to talk to both of them right now, because he misses them like he misses a phantom limb but he swallows it down and agrees, making Yoruichi promise that they will let him call them - his phone is paid for by work after all, and it behooves him to take advantage.

Ichigo putters through unpacking and sorting through the files he’ll need to have handy for the meeting tomorrow, spreading the lot of them on the big table in the suite. The case is, for lack of a better word, boring as fuck, but it’s a staggering number of billable hours, and Ichigo does appreciate the padding his bank account is receiving - Christmas is coming and there are two ladies who are deserving of something positively fabulous - so he’s trying not to complain overmuch.

His phone rings twice and stops, Yoruichi’s code for letting him know they’re ready to talk. Ichigo calls her back and takes the initiative to make it a video call instead of just voice and when she picks up, he grins, wide and pleased. Rukia is there next to her, the pair of them crowded into the view screen.

They wave at him and Ichigo wiggles his fingers back at them.

“How’s the hotel, Ichigo?” Rukia asks, and Ichigo turns his phone so they can see the view. Yoruichi ‘oohs’ appreciatively and Ichigo turns it back to himself. “Not bad,” Rukia says, “what about the room? Yoruichi said there was a big tub.” Rukia waggles her eyebrows in what, Ichigo is sure, she thinks is a suggestive manner. Mostly it makes her look ridiculous and he laughs. Rukia pouts prettily for a moment before Yoruichi cards a hand through her hair, and Rukia’s face smooths into a serene smile.

Ichigo misses them like breathing. “Tell me about your day?”

Rukia launches into a story about the pilot on the flight crew she’s been assigned to on this rotation. Ichigo settles more comfortably into his chair, letting her voice wash over him. He watches the way her eyes light and her face changes as she tells the story, the way he can see the barest movement of her hands in the bottom of the frame - and when she gets to the punchline, he watches as Yoruichi laughs, her head thrown back, while Rukia stifles her giggles with a hand.

After, Rukia insists he show them around the hotel room, so he does, before sprawling down onto the bed and holding the phone up over his head. They look down on him. Ichigo wishes them goodnight, and Yoruichi blows him a kiss and Rukia waves. Ichigo swipes his hand across his phone screen, capturing a screenshot of their faces smooshed together and then they end the call together. He stares at the screenshot for a long time before setting his phone down and getting started on his meeting prep.

The rest of the week passes quickly and soon Ichigo is at the end of a marathon day of flights filled with turbulence and delays.  He finally lands in the dead of night, in a near empty airport. He’d told the girls not to wait up, and he is pleased to see they haven’t, even if it means he has to get home from the airport himself. He hikes his shoulder bag more firmly onto his shoulder and strides purposefully for baggage and then the customs desk. It’s quick work to get a cab after that and Ichigo sinks into the seat gratefully.

He’s going home.

Finally.


End file.
